But his astonishment would have been great indeed had he known that not even her father had ever caressed her, either with lips or with hands. “She can’t go now. “You understand, then,” he was saying, “you understand?” “I understand,” said Ann Veronica, tear-wet and flushed with a reciprocal passion, but standing up to him with an equality that amazed even herself, “I understand. She shuddered. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. The blue jaws suggested courage and tenacity. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed.
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